Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back: Prologue
by queensuperjelly
Summary: The McKinley High School Glee club is in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Can they survive?  "The First Watch." Blaine encounters the dangers of the first watch.


The hallway was dead silent, except for the soft, rhythmic clacking of one pair of feet walking down it. An orange glow seeped in through the boarded-up windows, casting Finn Hudson's elongated shadow out in front of him.

Finn let one hand rest on the handgun in his belt. Silence scared the shit out of him, honestly. Especially here, surrounded by empty lockers and the ghosts of the past. When his walkie-talkie hissed to life, he nearly peed his pants.

"Hudson? Hudson, you there?"

Finn bit back a stream of curse words, pulled the walkie to his mouth, and replied, "What?"

"Are you almost done? The sun's going down and Hummel's getting nervous."

"Yeah I'm coming right now." Finn glanced behind him at the fresh slabs of wood he'd nailed to the windows.

"See you soon." The walkie crackled off. Finn quickened his pace and made it to the choir room in record time. It felt odd calling it that now; no music had filled it in a long time.

Quinn Fabray met him at the door. "So, how'd it go?"

"Fine." Finn nudged past her. "Do you have to refer to everyone by their last names over walkie-talkie?"

Quinn shut the door behind them and frowned. "I'm trying to be official, Finn. We're at war here."

"Yeah, okay." Finn scanned the room, eager for an escape from Quinn. He spotted Rachel, who was clumsily reloading guns. He went to her.

"You should have Puck help you with these," he said, gently taking the gun from her hand. "Don't want you to shoot yourself."

"I'm perfectly capable of loading a gun, Finn," Rachel huffed, snatching the gun back. "Anyway, Noah's trying to sleep. He's got first watch tonight."

Finn sighed at Rachel's harsh tone. She'd changed so much. Everyone had, it seemed. Finn kissed the top of her head, earning a rare smile from her. Then he set his gun and walkie on the supply table and went to bed.

Kurt was pacing again, and Blaine had no idea how to comfort him.

"Why'd you volunteer for first watch?" Kurt asked, stopping abruptly to glare at his boyfriend. "You know that's the most dangerous time. You _promised _me you'd never do that!" He began pacing again. Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist and held him stationary.

"Kurt," he said. "Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing has happened to any of us—"

"Artie was almost eaten alive, Blaine," Kurt protested.

"But he wasn't. Artie got away, and he's in a wheelchair. I'm in perfect health. I'll be _fine_."

"You promised," Kurt said, his voice betraying a quiver of childlike fear. Blaine sighed and pulled Kurt into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't do it again, okay?"

Kurt nodded into Blaine's shoulder, pulled back, and kissed his forehead. "If anything happens to you, I will beat the crap out of Puck."

Blaine chuckled at the idea of Kurt taking down Noah Puckerman. "Don't worry, we'll both be fine."

Puck and Blaine took their positions on either side of the choir room door. They heard the muffled sounds of the others undoing sleeping bags and getting ready for bed. Blaine was thinking longingly of the nest of sleeping bags and pillows he and Kurt always made. They'd wake up tangled up with each other. Those tiny moments of security were precious, and Blaine was craving them.

Puck usually slept between Artie and Quinn. His boy on his right and his dysfunctional girl on his left. Quinn put on a brave, emotionless front all day, but at night she often cried in her sleep. Puck hoped she'd be okay until first watch ended.

"So how bad does it get?" Blaine asked after a while. "This watch, I mean."

"It's been pretty quiet for like four days," Puck said. "And Finn just boarded up the windows. I don't think they'll get in tonight."

Puck was right about that. The sun went down and the boys heard the familiar grunts and rattles outside at the doors and windows, but nothing got through.

What neither of them expected is that one was already inside.

It came at them suddenly, and it was fast—that meant it was still new. It was grunting, it was screaming. Puck's gun was out in and instant and he shot six times with precision. It fell forward, legs collapsing, blood and ooze spattering the floor. Blaine's eyes were pooling with terrified tears. He'd never seen one so close before. And it didn't look like the others he'd seen—it wasn't yet rotting and sluggish, hardly human anymore. This one was fresh, with only one telling sign: the gaping gash at its throat, inflamed and swollen pink. It looked so momentarily normal when Puck had killed it, a flash of humanity and terror in its face. Blaine felt like he had just witnessed a murder, and his stomach rolled with the sudden urge to puke.

Puck blinked down at it, a look of casual intrigue on his face. He nudged the zombie with the toe of his boot.

"Welcome to the first watch, Blaine."


End file.
